2013.07.30 - A Minion's New Toy
"Ah, Shift. I have a gift for you," Magneto says, beckoning Shift into his office. He smiles and walks out from behind his mahogany desk, gesturing towards a long, high-impact plastic case resting on the coffee table. "I think you'll rather enjoy this. I had a fit of ingenuity a few nights back and whipped this up." He gestures, and the latches pop open and the lid elevates. Inside is a sleek black rifle, but unlike any weapon in existence. It's a bullpup of some kind, but with a firing stud instead of a trigger, and some kind of odd intake port on the butt end where the shoulder stock would normally be. "What do you think?" Entering Magneto's office, Kwabena offers the man a slightly crooked smile in greeting. However, soon enough, his eyes are drawn away by the item displayed for him to see. Now, Shift was well versed in a variety of weapons, but this one is unlike anything he has ever seen. Naturally, the first thing he notices is the odd intake port, but he says nothing of it. The African reaches out to take the weapon, studying its weight, turning it over and over in his hand, and inspecting the firing stud before running a finger along the intake port. A number of things come to mind, but before he follows them through to their natural conclusions, he turns his mis-matched eyes upon the older man. "De construct is close to perfection, weighted perfectly. Howevah, I am wondering." He turns the weapon about so that the intake port is facing Magneto, and taps it with his fingers. "What is dis for?" "Intake manifold," Magneto says with a very minutely smug smile. It's mostly pride, but a bit smug, admittedly. "This is a magnetic resonance accelerator rifle. The technology is very experimental- it is functionally a plasma rifle. Hyperexcited material- about a gram of matter, give or take- is accelerated to near relativistic speeds. The battery was fairly simple to manufacture, given my knowledge of monopole magnets, but an ammunition source was tricky. Synthesizing plasma is extremely difficult." He positively beams at Shift, waiting for the mutant to work it out. Oh, little Erik, what are you getting into this time? Mystique need not be sitting beside the two to overhear certain words being said. She need not be outside of the room, even. Just a subtle inner shift to her ears and she can hear well beyond what the normal sorts would never dream about. Between his voice, recognizable anywhere on the planet to one such as her, and that of 'Jomas Ahnbar' from so many months back, she knows who's involved with the discussion as well. Now, why would Magneto be supplying this other mutant with experimental weapon tech? She could just lurk from afar and listen in but times like this she's feeling way too arrogant to stoop to such a level. Erik may need to be reminded that he's not the only source of power for all of Genosha. She is not to be forgotten about, particularly with how she puts her own neck on the line for his global game of Chess. Both of the mutants would likely recognize the wavy haired figure that is Melissa Hawthorne, stepping through the open doorway without announcing her arrival beyond the sound of heels upon the flooring. "I hear tell of a lovely science project in the works." Oh, Kwabena was a clever one. He had already begun piecing together just what this particular rifle would be used for. The missing pieces, as they are filed in, draw a knowing expression to his face. Hefting the rifle, he turns aside and takes aim at one of the walls. He eyes the barrel from end to end, until his eyes find a very small finger dial. He dials it down, then allows his finger to hover over the firing stud. Touching it, he feels the stock pulling against his shoulder, but since he remains solid, the device merely emits a momentary flash from deep within. The weapon kicks back just slightly, but given the lack of a fuel source, it essentially fires a blank. Lowering the weapon, Shift's mismatched eyes light up. "Fascinating," he whispers. Turning at the sound of heels, Shift studies Melissa as she enters. "Would you like to see a full demonstration, Miss Hawthorne?" An absolutely mischievous grin forms upon the African's face, before he turns back toward Magneto. "Microscopic flow control," he notes, tapping the small dial indicatively--a piece of the rifle that will regulate the amount of gas taken in. "So, it can be surgical, or..." Glimmer. "-Not- surgical." "My dear, you know how I feel about you hiding your true face," Magneto says with a wry smile. He speaks without turning, his back to the door, before Mystique approaches them or Shift identifies her. Keen senses, apparently, are not only the domain of the Lady of Genosha. As she draws near, Magneto /does/ turn, and brushes the knuckles of his hand gently against her cheek affectionately. "Boys with their toys," he says, mimicking her teasing tone. He turns back to Shift, thoroughly enjoying the mutant's examination of his new toy. "I've limited the capacity of the firing chamber to a few thousand kilopascals," Magneto says. "The ceramics used in the construction necessitated a limited firing capacity. I don't recommend you overpressurize the feed chamber- the intake manifold is calibrated rather precisely." He taps the metal dial Shift had been playing with. "Rely on this. I cannot guarantee the results if you exceed the maximum tolerances I've designed this for." He goes on to illustrate a few other features- an illuminated holographic sight, the manual venting shroud, and so on. "I'm particularly proud of the material I used to manufacture this," he says with a smile. "Thermally neutral ceramics insulate the firing mechanisms and battery core. But the entire surface of the weapon is a magnetic dipole. It will repel plasma on the molecular level. It won't affect your grip, but it will reduce thermal transfer into the weapon by around ninety-nine percent." He quirks a brow in frustration. "Regrettably, I could not determine a way to convert it with you into your /other/ matter phases." The lone woman can't help but grin at the statement Magneto makes before ever laying eyes upon her. In another moment she's standing beside him, hands upon his chair. The instant the back of his hand make contact with her cheek her skin begins to discolor, reforming into a vivid blue that spreads out to encompass her entire figure. A flicker of motion and a second's worth of time leave her standing in the same position but in her proper colors, complete with white leather boots, pants, and jacket. "I think I should be a fool to turn down such an offer," she replies with a wicked-turned smile toward Kwabena. After all, she would simply love to know what Erik is placing in the hands of this particular mutant. One of the mutants that happened to be standing inside of the church she had detonated out in the Bronx but a few months ago. "And might I add that you are looking quite well these days." For someone that would have otherwise been turned into a chunky red mist along with the other non-powered sorts. She would need to have some words with Erik about all of this. Since when did this X-Man be allowed here to be handed such ordnance? Erik is no fool, there must be something else at play. She intends to find out exactly what it is, in due time. Listening attentively, Kwabena only takes note of the other devices visible, committing the warning to memory. "Dat may not be an issue," he replies. "Given de weight of the weapon, I believe I can carry it, regahdless." He's close to transforming himself into his gaseous form just to try it out, when the transformation of Mystique takes his eye. He looks on curiously, at first giving the woman only a sideways glance, but soon enough he's turning more fully to study the transformation with a touch of fascination. Lowering the weapon, he gestures toward her with a finger, while contemplating a few things. "How many times have I..." He silences himself. Never mind. She probably wouldn't tell, but it would explain a great many things. Like how Erik was able to know so many things about him. Shift absorbs the woman's compliment as if he were shielded. "You wouldn't believe how free I feel," he remarks. "It's as if some few thousand microscopic monstrosities had suddenly decided to burn in a blaze of fiah." Which is true, regardless of the sarcasm that is subtly hinted in his response. A glance is shot Erik's way. "Got a place where we might test it?" he asks, hefting the rifle over his shoulder. Magneto clasps Shift's shoulder and smiles at the younger man. "Basement two, the testing laboratories. There's a firing range that I think will accommodate you rather nicely. Now, be careful with your new toy," he half teases, half cautions the man. "Try not to set any fires down there." He steers Shift to the door and gives him an encouraging pat on the back, sending the Ghanan mutant off to wreak controlled havoc with the plasma rifle. "I will review the CCTV feeds from here and make adjustments as needed, later. Affairs of state," he says, gesturing at his desk. "Enjoy yourself. I insist," he says, flashing another one of those beatific patrician smiles. 'How many times...' To that question Mystique simply expands upon her former grin, somehow looking even more predatory. "Enough." That's all the answer he's going to get, whether his question gets a chance to be properly completed or not. Of course she would never give a straight and honest answer. Not even her own children get the full, uncensored truth from her. Such a concept would just be silly. Basement two. She knows the way. "I will be with you shortly," she assures Kwabena with that tipped head and look of dark amusement still intact. "Affairs of state," she repeats while taking a seat upon the edge of Magneto's desk with the same sort of pose one might expect to find in a (somewhat more tasteful) calendar. Now's a good enough time to fire up the grill. Once Shift is out of the office, Magneto makes a negligent gesture, and the doors swing shut behind the departing mutant. A faint humming noise reverberates from the chandelier, and in a moment, the room is as secure from eavesdropping as it is possible. The butler, omnipresent and silent, vanishes out the side door into Magneto's chambers. The doors latch, and Magneto takes his seat again, swiveling in the ornate chair to regard Mystique impassively. He steeples his fingers and arches an eyebrow. "You disapprove," he says, flatly. His tone is mild, neither accusatory or angry- a mere statement of fact, inviting Mystique to speak her mind. There she sits, waiting, hearing the office as it becomes secured in a way none other could hope to achieve. That she may now be locked inside of an all metal box with an omega level mutant isn't lost to her, though it also doesn't come up as a point of concern. "I question your motive," Mystique corrects while bracing her hands upon the desk, comfortably leaning back with one leg folded over the other. "Wolverine and Nightcrawler alike were not given such deference. Imagine my surprise when I find you giving an X-Man such a powerful new toy to play with. Help me understand what I am missing here, Erik." Accusations can wait for when they're truly merited. More information is required. "Swords to plowshares, my dear," Magneto says with an urbane smile. He does seem to enjoy the momentary advantage of Mystique. "Well- in reverse, to be precise." As he speaks, the drink tray floats over, stable as a shelf, and Magneto pours Mystique her favorite liquor, and himself, a particularly well-aged scotch. "If one wishes to turn a weapon of war into an instrument of peace, one buries it in the ground. If one wishes to turn a peaceful man into a warrior, he needs two things- a weapon, and a target." Magneto nods at the closed door. "I do not know what his motives are. He seems sincere enough, but I can be lied to. However...." he swirls his scotch over the ice. "Behaviourl conditioning is becoming somthing of a forte of mine. I wish to turn Shift into a weapon. Regardless of his motivations or intentions, I have equipped him and set him on the field of battle. If he did not truly hate, he will /learn/ to hate. We will teach him the art of anger. We will sharpen and hone him, until he is a sword to be thrust where we wish." He smiles up at Mystique. "Handing a- generally- motivated man a weapon and telling him where his quarry lies seems a reasonably simple method of assuring his allegiance, no?" He sips his whiskey, looking from under his white eyebrows at his counterpart. The incoming drink is offered only the smallest glance as Mystique reaches for it, now keeping herself propped up by one hand as the glass comes to rest comfortably atop a leg. "I gather that you intend to turn him into a weapon, but are you certain that he can be controlled? Should we lose hold of this one he will be difficult to catch. Swaying him toward our cause may well be possible but he was one of Xavier's, and may continue to be. While I do not question your desire to correct his misplaced behavior, I do question his extended loyalty toward us, or anyone beyond himself. Do not lose sight of him, he is not to be trusted." Here the metamorph pauses, her idle smile growing slightly broader. "That said, I do love to watch what happens when one over-tightens the spring on a former hero and hands him a deadly piece of equipment. The fireworks should be most spectacular," she concludes before taking a drink from her glass. The incoming drink is offered only the smallest glance as Mystique reaches for it, now keeping herself propped up by one hand as the glass comes to rest comfortably atop a leg. "I gather that you intend to turn him into a weapon, but are you certain that he can be controlled? Should we lose hold of this one he will be difficult to catch. Swaying him toward our cause may well be possible but he was one of Xavier's, and may continue to be. While I do not question your desire to correct his misplaced behavior, I do question his extended loyalty toward us, or anyone beyond himself. Do not lose sight of him, he is not to be trusted." Here the metamorph pauses, her idle smile growing slightly broader. "That said, I do love to watch what happens when one over-tightens the spring on a former hero and hands him a deadly piece of equipment. The fireworks should be most spectacular," she concludes before taking a drink from her glass. "My thoughts exactly. And I trust you to keep an eye on him," Magneto assures Mystique. "He'll be too busy to get into any real trouble. We can disseminate some false secrets to him and see what comes back via our spy network." Magneto smiles brilliantly. "We've gained either a valuable ally or a potent mole. He has a weapon that is largely no threat to us, but a huge boon to him." Magneto sips his scotch again, savouring the taste. "Sticks and carrots, my dear, sticks and carrots. Your daughter, on the other hand," he frowns, "gives me a bit of pause. I'm not entirely certain what her motivations are, but she seems willing. She's not quite... hmm. Committed, I suppose, in my personal perception. I wonder if she's suborning some other emotion via enlisting with us. Still, one as good as the other," he says with a neutral shrug. One of Mystique's crimson brows hooks upward a few degrees, though her expression remains one of idle contentment with a touch of playful mischief. "Would you like me to babysit him while I'm busy worming my way into SHIELD security or after? You do me much honor, Erik, but even I cannot be in two places at once. I already have some of the Brotherhood's finest watching out for one going by the name of 'Joe,' he is a recent arrival with some manner of ocular-based powers which he keeps suppressed by use of shades. I can reorganize the team and put some on Shift, as well." Then..there's the matter of her daughter. She had heard some rumors, but to hear that Rogue is actually on the island? "I will see what I can do about her." Magneto pats Mystique's hand reassuringly. "Call it more paternal affection than concern," he assures the blue-skinned woman. "I am willing to work with the tools I am given, but I would just as soon Rogue's motives be clear to herself. I know how dear your children are to you," he assures Mystique. "I accord them a commesurate degree of consideration. Kurt may end up turned over my knee if he keeps that smart tone up," he adds in a dry mumble. Magneto sips his scotch, easing back in his seat. "Shades. Ocular power. Ah, yes, that one." He waves a hand at the computer monitors, and the holographic images spring to life. It takes him a few minutes, but his nearly eidetic memory allows him to pinpoint the individual in question almost immediately. Aaron Ortel's face flashes on the screen, and indeed, Genosha registers his name as 'Joe'. "An alias. Hardly surprising. See if you can do anything with this facial scan, my dear- the more information you give me, the better. Who knows? Perhaps we can turn him as well." Magneto flashes the image over to Mystique's personal folders and turns off the computer. "Let us not concern ourselves overmuch with Shift," he says to Mystique. "I would will that he thinks we trust him. I've sent him to investigate that old Sentinel facility in Cincinnatti. Who knows? It might actually /have/ something in it. I'm sure the automated defenses will react badly to him. Even if all he brings back are some scrapped Sentinel parts, it will be a good morale booster for our young friend." He finishes his scotch. "Omega is taking too long finding the Morlocks. If he can't make contact with them soon I might have to do so myself." Magneto frowns, considering. "I've recruited a pugnacious detective by the name of John Carmichal. He's interested in serving as a Genoshan citizen. Aside from Olena's mission to the old Appalachian site, I think that's all of my dastardly plotting at the moment." He smiles winningly up at Mystique. "Anything new from my spymistress I should know about, or are you saving it for my birthday?" "She does have a history of being somewhat conflicted," Mystique confirms. "She has never figured out where she belongs." Something which she still wishes to correct one of these days. It should be easier, knowing that Rogue is here now. The timing is rather unfortunate, however. Soon Mystique will have to leave, there is other business which will require her attention. With mention of Kurt her eyes turn in full to Erik, her expression now perfectly neutral. "So long as that is all you would attempt to do with him." Besides, Kurt can teleport. It's easy enough for him to dodge such disciplinary actions. When 'Joe's' profile is brought up she turns toward the screen and inclines her head once, again confirming what is said. "I'm already on it. Out of the three major new faces we have around Genosha, he is my first pick for a spy. If my suspicions are correct then I will use such knowledge against him while he is left in the dark." Shift... Well, he's now Erik's responsibility. She has enough to concern herself with. Let the boys go off and do their own thing. Carmichal is rather intriguing. "A detective? Perhaps he should be the one you lean upon for locating the Morlocks, if he can be trusted." And then right back to her work. Another drink, then a return of her amused smile. "We are days away from bringing two modified Sentinels online. By this time next week the humans will be reminded of why the project is such a bad one to embrace. After an inspiring romp through Times Square I will be on my way into SHIELD operations. It should not take long to cover my objectives." "Excellent," Erik applauds. "Do try not to use more than the two, dear. I can ill afford the loss of a rook in this game of chess. My queen, of course, being indispensible," he says with an almost boyish look on his lined face. "But the Sentinels will prove a hardy, and handy, reserve force should we run into conflict with Hammer Bay before I can negotiate a peace settlement." He drums his fingers on the table. "I address the UN later this week. I'm quite certain that the Southern provinces will yield their territories to me- we desperately need their crop yields, and I think they are beginning to appreciate the value of high-end luxury and industrial production." Magneto drones for a few minutes about the minutiae of managing a city-nation. It's a bit boring, but really, who else is he going to whine to? "I am still looking for the proper lever with the Alliance," he says with a pensive frown. "Outright invasion would be costly and politically detrimental. We are nicely balanced between our industrial goods and their shipping lanes, so financial maneuvering is out of the question. This leaves me political avenues." He seems to be speaking out loud, waiting for Mystique to offer one of her penetrating insights. "We own Councilor Eilos, of course, and I think Councilor Mayhem is sympathetic. But that gives us only two votes of five. The humans will, of course, vote against any alliance with us, so that leaves leveraging the President." He looks up at Mystique, quirking an eyebrow at her. "Any suggestions?" Not everything can be exciting. Politics can be fun to muck about in, though at the end of the day Mystique would much rather distance herself from that mass of unpleasantness. However, there is some good which could be done in this particular situation. This makes it marginally more interesting. Even if she does look fairly bored with the matter. It would be so easy to take care of these problems for Erik. Pretending to examine her fingernails might trick some people, though it's not likely to work with this man. If she wishes to have perfect nails then that is what she will have. It's all about the gesture, not the action behind it. "Should you desire any assistance in nudging either side to the proper direction..." she trails off, not figuring that any further explanation is necessary. "Whether one of the five seats or handling things from the top of the pyramid. If you don't mind having a few more skeletons in the closet, of course. Securing your vote is child's play, any difficulty would be in building a proper cover-up for an unexpected assassination. We still have plenty of rebel cells which would easily take the blame for such a tragedy, little preparation would be required. Otherwise, the mere suggestion that the crosshairs are following their every move tends to have a desirable short-term outcome," she finishes with another look, and sly grin, passed Erik's way. Erik nods shortly, still lost in thought. "I had considered that. But the Alliance- barbaric anarchists that they are- have a few laws, and one of them is that no major policy matters can be determined while the Council is not fully staffed. And, additionally, at least two seats on the Council must be filled by non-mutants." He quirks his mouth in a frown. "While I admire your directness, there are some concerns about the President abruptly being replaced just before- or immediately after- a vote to capitulate to us. It would raise too many eyebrows." He drums his fingers on the table again, contemplatively. "Though perhaps a more... hmm." One eyebrow ticks up, a cue to a brainwave hitting him. "I constantly forget how /base/ humans are," he says with a chuckle. "My dear, do you know of any young women in your spy network who are baseline human in appearance and willing to seduce and destroy one of the human councilors?" he asks Mystique. "I think if he awoke one day and discovered he'd been seduced by a mutant, we could easily convince him to switch his vote. Some bribery wouldn't hurt, either- a new car, some fancy toys..." he nods to himself. "A few weeks would be more than enough time to switch his vote." The next idea is something else which Mystique could handle on her own, but why should she have to? There's plenty of suitable candidates within their ranks that would love the opportunity to help support the mutants as a whole. "I can think of a few," she says with a more thoughtful approach, one finger lightly tapping the side of her glass. "It would be a good test of their loyalty. I can have a list on your desk by tomorrow morning." Erik can handle the legwork of interviewing these individuals and getting them on their mission. A job of the utmost importance, from the Imperator himself. Most of these young women would be beside themselves simply for being called forth in such a fashion. "Should this not carry through there are other options we can explore at a later date. I am not concerned about missing our victory." There are ways around any problem. Between these two, all bases are well covered. "Excellent." Magneto grins brilliantly up at Mystique. "I must confess, I'm torn between telling you of my grand design, or waiting to see the stunned look on your face when I complete it," he says with a laugh. "I'm leaning towards the latter. I do enjoy seeing you stunned, now and then." He winks at her, his face animated and boyish- an expression very few besides Mystique get to see. He turns in his chair, looking out the window and keeping Mystique in his peripheral vision. Guards patrol the grounds, their image slightly distorted by the glass. "I feel as if I've been neglecting you, my dear. You do so much for us, and our people know your face as well as mine." He considers his words, delivering them rather delicately. "I know you wish to avoid attention, but I would like to reward you. Somehow." He steeples his fingers. "How would you feel about a Duchy? Or a Barony, I suppose, if you prefer the other title," he says with a flick of his fingers. "The Duchess Mystique has a nice ring to it. And I /do/ need an autocratic presence in the south that I know I can trust, even if you are not involved in the day to day running of the government." That smile is returned, though Mystique's usual underlining sadism still comes through in part. She does enjoy her work, outside validation or not. Very few people exist that know of what she's doing, let alone are there to compliment her for everything that she does. It's more than for herself, or for mutantkind as a whole. It's true, she does quite a lot for Erik. It's been a point of mutual benefit, however. A hundred little things for one exploding mountain. "Dear Erik..." she quickly drops in with a dismissive tone. It doubles as a means of covering some surprise, coincidentially. This is something she had not been expecting. "I am happy to help be a pillar of strength for our community, but it is not in my nature to settle down. People like me don't get to put down roots and play nice. All the reward I need can be found walking the streets of Bastion, and soon all of Genosha, so many of our kind content and worry-free. Politics have always been one of your many gifts and not one of my own, though the gesture is appreciated." "Of course, of course," Magneto says, apologizing. He waves his hand through the air, flicking away the offer. "I hadn't intended it as a burden. Merely... recognition of your status." He idly squeezes Mystique's hand for a moment, his rawboned knuckles standing out under the thinning skin. "My hope is that people like you /can/ put down roots," he says, his voice soft. "I do not mean the offer as a merely political one. I wish to appoint you to a Duchy so that the people recognize your contributions more publicly. That you are one of the rulers of this nation we are building, and that you are accorded the formal respect you deserve with the informal respect you recieve every day. I am building a future for /all mutants/," he says, resting his head against the chair, his voice a bit weary. "I want the world to know that I value and treasure the Duchess Mystique, and that she is the voice of the people. I cannot walk the streets as you can," he tells Mystique, eyes still half lidded. "I must be more than a man. I must be a symbol to the people- swift and terrible as the dawn, as devouring as the sea. They will love me, yes, but they must fear me too, so they tread onwards towards our enemy. The Duchess, however... is someone they can always love, and someone they can speak to, begging intercession on my behalf." But at what point would such an offer seem more like favoritism rather than mere recognition? Mystique doesn't wish to place herself above everyone else. She's one of them (and she knows who's the best, after all.) Taking on such a title might seem..oh, selfish to the Nth degree. But at the same time, she wouldn't be choosing it for herself like Erik had with the title of Imperator. It would be appointed to her. "Do you think it such a wise idea," she raises the question while shifting her legs to be crossed in the opposite direction, "to give me such a public profile, knowing that I am the one responsible for constantly batting the lesser species back into its place? Should word of some of my ..adventures get out to the citizens here, it may cause some issues, mistrust at the least. I do enjoy my low profile, though things do have a habit of catching up to me sooner or later." Not that she minds, but hey. "The lady in me is flattered. The freedom fighter in me questions the logic. If you believe this will work out for everyone within our care, then I will accept." It's still about them, not her. Mutants. The betterment of their species comes first. Category:Log